


It's Not Easy Feeling Blue

by jka039



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Maybe Happy Ending, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Chuck Shurley is God, Chuck Shurley is Not God, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, I Tried, I'm not sorry, Implied Mpreg, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, King Sam Winchester, M/M, Weird Plot Shit, Written Back in Like Season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jka039/pseuds/jka039
Summary: He had always known not to get attached. Love. Family. None of it mattered in the end. He knew this.Knew it.And, yet, here he was: the biggest sucker of them all.Love. Family.So much for not caring.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel & Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 10





	It's Not Easy Feeling Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I tried.

“Gabriel,” he says in that disappointed tone. And, fuck, maybe if he wasn’t an angel of the Lord that would have done something. But, no, he doesn’t know why Sam speaks like that—as if he’d crumble from some meagre words—and, no, his heart doesn’t speed up in apprehension. His palms don’t get sweaty. And he most certainly does not become nervous.

He’s a goddamn archangel of God and a measly mortal can’t do shit to him.

Except… Sam isn’t a measly mortal. He isn’t even human—not anymore.

“Gabriel,” Sam says again in that sad tone of his. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know, buttercup,” he replies, slapping on a roguish grin. “You’re going to have to be a bit clearer on that. I’ve done a lot of shit through the ages.” There is a ridiculously strong urge to flee from here, be anywhere but here. He stamps it down and studiously ignores it like he had done when Sam showed up.

Sam looks at him unimpressed and Gabriel’s grin strains just a bit. “Cas was crying.”

Except, no, Cas doesn’t cry. He’s not much of a crier, his little brother. At most, he’d shut down, become unresponsive, and go off to a corner to be all doom and gloom. He’d probably also have his arms around his knees, looking all stupidly depressing.

At the image, a sinking feeling enters him. His grin fades from his face and he knows, if he were to look in a mirror, a glower would have replaced it.

“I tried to comfort him,” Sam continues.

 _I’m sure you did_ , Gabriel doesn’t say with all the deserving venom.

“But he isn’t getting better.” Here Sam’s face softens and he places his hand on Gabriel’s arm. “He needs you, Gabe.” And doesn’t that just pull at the heartstrings? His little bro needs him, needs him to go right back to the cage he escaped from, and—goddamn it—he’s actually thinking of going back. Sam’s somehow managing to use Gabriel’s feelings against him and that stings for some reason.

Gabriel carefully doesn’t close his eyes or do anything near to admitting he’s close to being defeated. He’s not. Nowhere near close. Instead, he forces himself to relax and think this through.

He could say yes and go marching back to what Sam calls ‘home’ and, ignoring the sour taste that brings to his mouth in even thinking of doing that, it would be under his own power – you know just coated in a whole lot of ‘I won’t allow you to refuse’ or ‘something bad will happen if you don’t do what I want blah blah blah’. But, hey, freedom of choice.

Or, he could say no. He could ignore the blatant manipulation Sam had going for him, call it like it was and try to get out of dodge again. He didn’t have to go back to that gilded cage where the only remnant of his family remains. He doesn’t have to go back and comfort Cas and tell him, “You see bucko, Sam is really just trying his very best,” and all sorts of useless platitudes. He doesn’t have to, and yet…

Fuck.

“I hate you and your little dog too,” he spits and, here, the aforementioned dog – a hellhound, really – gives a little bark of offense.

“Thank you—”

“Let’s be clear here,” he interrupts before Sam can continue his meaningless words of gratitude. He jabs his finger into the other’s chest as hard as he can. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m only doing this for Cas. And your brother, too.” He adds once he remembers the other, shrugging off the hand still touching his arm.

Rather than get annoyed or anything else, Sam just smiles that glib smile of his. “Still, I know how hard this must be for you, Gabe. So, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, moose,” he waves his hand dismissively before slapping on a smile. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

And when Sam holds out his hand, Gabe takes it.

Once again into the deep, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I've little control of the muse. So, this might or might not be continued. I'd like it to be, so we'll see.


End file.
